Too Late
by firefly5151
Summary: Sara reflects on her life at the crime lab.


Title: Too Late

Summary: Sara reflects on her life at the crime lab.

Disclaimer: Nope…don't own CSI. You'd definitely know if I did.

A/N: Told from Sara's point of view. Takes place before Nesting Dolls.

**Too Late**

I'm sitting in the break room staring at the coffee in the mug I am holding. I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but I know my coffee is no longer hot. As a matter of fact, it's no longer warm. It's ice cold. It's the same feeling I get when I wander the halls here at the crime lab.

I've been working here for almost six years now. I know that when Catherine, Warrick, and Nick heard that Grissom was brining me in, they weren't too happy about it. It took a while, but I thought they had warmed up to me. I guess I was wrong.

What hurts me more than that cold feeling is Grissom. I was truly happy with my life in San Francisco. Then that fateful night happened. A night where I thought my life would change for the better… That night, I got the call from Gil Grissom.

When I accepted the offer to come to Las Vegas, I knew that he only wanted me for the criminalist position. But it was hard to ignore my feelings. As time passed though, my feelings disappeared. Then when I thought my life was back to normal, he made a comment that brought all those feelings back. Since it was many years ago, I can't remember the exact words he said, but it made me think that he had feelings for me just like I did for him. But in these past six years, he's never acted on them.

As I also reflect on all the good times I've had here, Greg Sanders walks in. He heads over to the coffee pot to refill his cup. Knowing Greg, he brewed a pot of his prized Blue Hawaiian coffee. Greg is one of the best friends I have here at the lab. He's almost like a brother to me. But seeing Greg, I'm reminded of the split Ecklie made to Grissom's team, especially Sophia having to join Greg and me under Grissom.

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes now. It's amazing that the thought of Sophia can cause this type of reaction in me. I mean, I should feel sorry for her because she got demoted, but I can't. I can still picture that night when I went to the computer to do some research on my mother's court case. There in the conference, looking way too cozy and sitting too close together, were Grissom and Sophia. Or how about when I found out that he asked her out to dinner? I asked him to dinner once. He said no, that he didn't know what to do about "this."

Now the tears are starting to fall, but I don't move. I just sit here staring into my mug as the tears fall down my face. In my dreams, this is where Grissom would come in to the break room. He'd see me crying and pull up a chair and sit down next to me. Or he'd lead me over to the couch, sit next to me, and with his arms wrapped around me, ask me what's wrong. But I know that none of that will happen. Just thinking those words makes the tears fall faster.

A few minutes have now passed and I think the tears are stopping. Knowing I must look awful, I grab my bag from the chair next to me and head to the restroom. I blow my nose, splash some water on my face, and fix my hair. Since I look more presentable, I go back to the break room. I need to finish what I initially went in there to do.

I make my way back to the table. My mug of cold coffee is still sitting there. I grab it, pour out the contents and refill it with Greg's pot of coffee. After I get back to the table, I pull out a manila folder and pen I have in my bag. I lay them both on the table. I can't bring myself to open the folder just yet, so I just stare at it.

He did it to me again. He always seems to disappoint me. The one time that I think about often is when I was trying for the key position. He told me the only reason I didn't get recommended was because I cared whether or not I got the position. To this day, I still don't understand his reasoning.

After remembering that event, I feel ready now. I reach for the manila folder and slowly open it. As I re-read the letter inside, the tears start again. I finally get to the end of the letter. It sounds fine and there's nothing for me to change. I pick up my pen and sign it. Hesitantly, I fold the letter and stuff it into an envelope. I seal it and address it: Supervisor Gil Grissom. I put the pen and folder back in my bag and take a sip of coffee. This all feels the same, just like my second year here. Even the reasons are the same. I need a new work environment, one where there is communication and I am respected.

I finish my coffee and put the mug on the counter. I grab my bag and the envelope. Slowly I walk the halls of the crime lab toward his office. I'm hoping he's not there. I don't want to have to face him. As I round the corner, I breathe a sign of relief. His office is empty. Walking in, I notice his desk is a mess, so I lay the envelope on his chair. On my way out, I take one last look at his office. Knowing that I'm about to start crying, I leave the office and head to the locker room. I empty all my locker's contents into my bag. I then just sit here crying. A huge part of me wishes I didn't have to do this, but I know it's something I must do. Between my sobs, I glance at the clock on the wall. Dayshift should be arriving soon. I don't want to be here when they arrive. I grab all my belongings and head out to my car. I get in and throw all my stuff into the back seat.

I start my car with tears still falling down my face. As I leave the parking lot, I look in my rear view mirror to see the place where all my dreams were shattered. Instead of seeing the crime lab, I see Grissom standing just outside the doors with an envelope in his hand. As I drive away, my eyes are drawn to the mirror. All I can do is watch as the Las Vegas Crime Lab and Grissom disappear from my sight and from my life.

As I turn on the main road, I find myself heading to the park. I pull my car into the parking lot and search for a secluded shady spot. I open the windows, put the seat back, and turn off the engine. As I get comfortable, the sounds of kids playing in the distance and the breeze rustling through the trees starts to put me to sleep. Taking off my sunglasses, I lay my head back and close my eyes.

A trash truck driving past stirs me out of my sleep. I glance at the clock. I've been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Yawning, I realize why I am at the park. I don't want to be home. If I go there, I will have to face the reality of my life. I now know my life is empty, and at the moment, it seems worthless. I'm starting to get really depressed but don't want to stay here. I know I must go home some time, so I start up my car and turn on an up-beat radio station.

Rounding the corner to my complex, I notice a familiar looking SUV parked in the visitor's space near my carport. Seeing the SUV makes my heart start to pound. I don't know why, considering all I've been through today and these past six years. Oh who am I kidding? I do know why I'm reacting like this. I still love him. I think I always will. Guess that is why I had such a hard time leaving that letter on his chair this morning. But would he really be here? I can definitely answer that one. No! It's just a vehicle that looks like his. He's definitely not the type of person who will go to your house to talk to you. With the way he's been treating me at work these past few months, he's probably glad that I gave him that letter. Now he doesn't have to deal with me anymore. I can feel the tears threatening my eyes again. Haven't I done enough crying for today?

Parking my car, I take a deep breath, grab my bag, and head up to my apartment. I make my way up the stairwell. It's empty. The tears that were threatening to fall a few minutes ago are now trickling down my face. I guess that deep down I really wished that he'd be here waiting for me to come home. Why do I always hope he'll do something that I want? He never has. I should know that I'll always be disappointed.

I quickly unlock the door and walk in to my apartment. I drop my bag on the floor and head straight to the couch. I sit down and hug my knees. My apartment is dark, but I don't bother to turn on the lights or open the blinds. I want the darkness. It fits my mood.

As I sit here, I begin to think about how pathetic I am. It's only a job. It's only a man. But in my heart I know they are not just "only." I've wanted to spend the rest of my life with that man since the first day we met. And being a criminalist is all I've ever wanted to be. To make it more perfect, what better place to do the job I love than with the man I love. They are my dream and for a little while I was living my dream. What's so pathetic about actually obtaining your dream and then losing it? I bet anyone who is in my position would be feeling the same way I am right now.

What am I going to do? I know I'm a great criminalist and can get a job anywhere. But I can't deal with any of this now. I do know what can help though. I get up and walk over to the refrigerator. Opening the door, I see what I need. As I reach for the cold bottle, I can hear my PEAP counselor telling me I don't need it, that it doesn't solve my problems. Right now I disagree and since I no longer work at the LVMPD, it doesn't matter anyway. Setting the bottle on the counter, I go in search of my bottle opener. I find it and walk back to my bottle. The doorbell rings stopping me in my tracks.

I head to the front door and look through the peep hole. My heart starts pounding again and I find myself shaking. He's here. He's really here. Why is he here? Will he try to stop me from leaving again? What will I say to him? Just seeing him standing on the other side of my door starts me crying again. He's finally done something I have always wanted, but now it's too late.

With a shaky hand, I cautiously open my front door. "Hi." I don't recognize my own voice. It's rough from all the crying I've been doing these past few hours. I wipe the tears from my cheek. I really don't want him to know that I've been crying. This is something I want, and I shouldn't be getting so upset about it.

His voice is so soft and comforting. He can tell I've been crying. "Can I come in?"

I search his face trying to see what his intentions are. All I see is sadness in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. He looks…heartbroken. Then again, I've actually never seen him look like this before, so I can't say for sure.

"Sara?"

I'm so caught up in trying to read him, I forget he asked to come in. "Sorry. Please come in." I close the door behind him. "Have a seat." I watch him walk to the couch. Remembering I have the bottle opener in my hand, I go back to the kitchen and open my bottle. I head to the living room and take a seat in the chair. I point to my bottle, "Want one?"

He looks from the bottle up to my eyes. "No Sara, and I don't think you should have one either."

"Why did you come here?" The words came out a little harsher than I wanted. Why does he always make me angry? Then again, I should be angry shouldn't I? He's a lot of the reason why I left that letter this morning.

I take a swig from my bottle and set it on the table. I look up at him and he's just staring at me. I'm beginning to feel a little nervous. It's amazing the effect that man has on me. I can go from being angry to nervous in a matter of seconds with just one look from him.

"Sara…" He moves closer to me on the couch.

Oh no, he did not just say my name like that. So full of feeling and concern. Like I really believe he cares.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. It's my letter. "Sara…I…"

I don't want this conversation to start. I've finally gotten control of my emotions and I know that once we start talking, the waterworks will start again. Dropping my gaze from his eyes, I pick up my bottle and start playing with the label.

"Sara, I want to know why." He pulls my letter out of the envelope. "I can't accept and sign this without an explanation first."

"It's all in there. Every reason why is written in that letter." I take a few sips from my bottle, hoping he'll drop the subject.

"I read it, but I believe there's more, Sara."

Maybe he knows more about me than I thought. In any event, I don't want to discuss it with him now. "Sorry to disappoint you, but that is all. There's nothing else behind it." Looking at my bottle again, I take a big gulp and set it down.

He reaches for my arm. "I don't believe you."

I can't deal with him touching me right now, so I pick up my bottle and head to the kitchen to throw it away.

"Sara, don't try to ignore me or this conversation."

I can hear him moving stuff around in my living room and see him opening up my blinds. As I turn around and head back, I can see he's gotten rid of my chair. All that's left to sit on is my couch…next to him. Everything he's doing right now is what I've always wanted him to do all these years. Why does it take me leaving to make him act this way?

He points to the letter he placed on the coffee table. "Will you please just tell me what has happened for you to want to do this, Sara?"

"You want to know my real reason?" I can feel his eyes on me as I walk over to the couch and sit on the far end, away from him. "Fine." I've had enough. I just want him to leave and will do anything for that to happen. "I just can't do this anymore." My voice is starting to shake now. "Do you realize how hard it is for me to come in to work every night?" I can't bring myself to look at him so I just stare at my hands. I'm trying hard not to cry, but tears are starting to fall down my face.

I can feel him moving closer to me on the couch. His voice is now pleading. "Sara, I can tell this isn't something you really want to do." He reaches for my hand and this time I don't move. Maybe he does care. But it's too late now. He had his chance. "If it was, you wouldn't have been sitting here in the dark crying."

The investigator wins again. I can't seem to hide anything from him. "You're right." The tears are still streaming down my face. "But it's something I have to do."

"Why?" His voice is so full of sadness. It's something I've never heard from him before.

"I'm not happy here anymore. I've tried my best to succeed and whatever I do. It always seems to never be enough." I wipe the tears from my face, but more are replacing them. "I applied for a higher position, but because of some stupid reason, you gave it to Nick. And it doesn't matter that the position was cut in the end. That tells me a lot about what you think of me as a criminalist." I look over to see his reaction. Like I expected, he doesn't show anything. "I'm always stuck in the lab, while everyone else on our shift is getting the higher profile cases. It seems like you don't want me working a case with you anymore. I'm always paired with Greg or by myself. Then…"

He cuts me off and lets go of my hand. "I know you're experienced enough to not need me around on cases. And I think it's important for Greg to work with one of the best criminalists I know."

He looks so satisfied with his reasoning and I roll my eyes. "That doesn't mean that I shouldn't get to work with you anymore. I think we make a great team." I continue with my previous thoughts. "I feel like I'm not being respected anymore. My thoughts and feelings don't seem to count. Then there's the lack of communication. I find out everything through the grapevine. That's not how it should be. If there are important things going on, I think I should hear them from you."

"Is that it?"

"No." I take a deep breath and continue, unsure with what I'm about to say. But he did say he wants to know all my reasons. "Then there's this." I point from him to me. Looking up I see the shock in his eyes.

Still looking at him, I continue. "You do know the reason I took your job offer to come down here and work right? It was because of you. I had a great job up in San Francisco, but you weren't there. Since that first day we met in your seminar, I knew there was something between us. I think you did too." Now he's the one looking down at his hands. He doesn't want to admit it does he? "Your call made me think we might finally have a future together. Guess I was wrong about that."

He's just sitting there with his mouth slightly open, lost in thought. It's the same expression he seems to give me whenever I try to discuss this. He looks deep into my eyes. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Then why did you? There were so many signs that you wanted to move forward, but every time I pursued it, you pushed me away. I would have rather had no indication from you that we could have a future instead of going through this. A heart can only take so much." I take a few shaky breaths and try to will my tears away. "It took you four years, but I was finally told that there could never be anything between us. Four years. It would have been so much better the first or second month I started here. But four years?"

I look at his face for some type of answer. All I see is confusion. "What?"

Boy, he plays dumb really well. In almost a whisper, "You can't risk everything you've worked for in order to be with someone you care about."

"You heard that?" He looks shocked and sad.

"Yes, I was in the other room watching your interrogation." I'm beginning to cry now. "If that was the case, why did you continue to make me think we could have a future?"

"I…I'm sorry."

I need to get away from him. Still crying, I get up and make my way to the kitchen.

He continues defeated. "Obviously nothing has turned out the way you wanted it. I guess you have every right to leave then." He pulls a pen out of his pocket, grabs the letter and signs his name on the supervisor's approval line. "I'll drop this off at the human resources office so all your final paperwork can be completed."

My back is now to him, but I can tell he's walking towards me. "I hope you have a good life Sara." He voice begins to shake "and I want your dreams to come true again."

He puts his hand on my shoulder and then heads to the door. I turn and watch him leave. As soon as he's out the door, I shut it and fall to the floor crying. I can't remember the last time I cried this hard. I'm actually finding it hard to breathe. But as I sit here crying, my thoughts go to the last words he said to me. I want your dreams to come true again. Again. Does it mean…? Could he really know what my dreams are to want them to come true again?

I don't know why, but I find myself getting off the floor and opening my front door. He's standing there. My eyes are drawn to his face. Are those tears in his eyes? "Is it really too late?"

I just look at him crying and shaking my head. "No."

He looks down towards his hands and I follow his gaze. He rips my letter into shreds and drops them on the ground. He quickly walks towards me and pulls me into a hug. "Can we start over, please?" I've never heard so much desperation in someone's voice as I have at this very moment.

I take a step back and look up into his eyes. "Yes, but only if things change at work too."

He pulls me back into the hug. "Of course, just don't leave."

"I won't. I promise." I can't believe what's happening now. I guess it did take my leaving to make Grissom open up his eyes. I'm still crying now as I hug him, but now it's because I'm so happy…my dreams will once again come true.


End file.
